


babysitting

by bleakmidwinter



Category: Rope (1948)
Genre: 1940s, Babysitting, Domestic Fluff, M/M, brandon and phillip are gay godparents, gay uncles, idk what else to tag, it's cute ok, mentions of 1940s homophobia, really some fucking cute shit for murderers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 10:39:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16973043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleakmidwinter/pseuds/bleakmidwinter
Summary: brandon and phillip have to babysit kenneth and janet's child for a week while the couple goes on vacation, and brandon and phillip have to face the difficulties of babysitting together





	babysitting

“Do you not trust them?” Kenneth asks, blue eyes large innocent spheres shining in the dim light of their bedroom. Janet smiles, despite herself, trying to ignore the nagging in her that she always gets when she thinks about how lucky she is to have ended up in Kenneth Lawrence’s bed after everything that happened.

 

“Of course I trust them. Despite Brandon being far too much to handle at times, I’d trust him with my life. I just don’t trust the world,” she admits and welcomes the warm hand intertwining with her own. 

 

Kenneth looks thoughtful, the ghost of a smile teasing his lips like it always does. “You’re going to have to let her go at some point,” he whispers, and kisses her cheek.

 

“She’s only one, she might need me.”

 

“And  _ you _ need a break. Brandon and Phillip can handle it, I promise. It’s not like they’re too busy. I’m not going to get another week’s leave like this one for a while. We both need a vacation,” Kenneth says softly. He kisses Janet’s cheek again. “Just let someone else handle our responsibilities for a week, is that too much to ask?”

 

“No, I suppose not. I’m being a fool.” Janet lets out a dry chuckle and leans her head against Kenneth’s shoulder. She stares out into the hall where her daughter’s bedroom is. 

 

“You’re a mother who’s never been a mother before. You’re rightfully worried,” Kenneth reassures. “I asked my work to let me go early tomorrow so I can see her off with you, alright? It’ll all go smoothly.” 

 

Janet kisses him and they sleep soundly after that.

 

* * *

 

Janet and Kenneth stand outside Brandon and Phillip’s door holding Sandra who is asleep against her father’s shoulder. Janet is stroking her head, and the look of worry in her eye is wavering and ever-present. 

 

“Calm down, it’ll be okay.” Kenneth smiles and kisses Sandra’s forehead before taking a big breath and ringing the doorbell. It’s mere seconds of hurried footsteps before Brandon opens the door with his classic charming grin. 

 

“Is this the lovely young lady?” He asks smoothly, staring at the baby as if she were an art piece. “Looks like both of you.”

 

“Yes, babies are normally combinations of their parents,” Janet drawls, lips twitched down in warning. “Don’t let anything happen to her.”

 

Brandon rolls his eyes. “Who do you take me as?”

 

“A fool,” she responds plainly, and he just laughs. Phillip soon sidles up next to Brandon and he grins at Sandra, an expression not usual for him. 

 

Kenneth holds Sandra out gently, and Brandon and Phillip exchange glances before Phillip takes her in his hands. It takes him a moment to adjust to holding her properly, but eventually he has an arm tucked under her, and his other hand supporting her head against his shoulder. He looks enthralled. 

 

“She’s quite heavy,” Phillip says and then panics. “I don’t mean that she’s, that’s not what I – ” 

 

Kenneth chuckles. “No, I’m afraid she’s very much a chubby girl according to the doctors, but babies occasionally are.” 

 

“I’m nicknaming her ‘The Unfortunate Pudge’ then,” Brandon says with a coy stare at the folds underneath Sandra’s chin. Janet slaps his arm with a barely held-back grin. 

 

“No, you’re not, chum.” She hands him a list with steps and needs written in delicate handwriting. “We have a bellhop bringing up her things. Just her crib, and high chair, and her toy she likes. Diapers, Nothing more. Oh, and some baby food to last you the week. You won’t need to worry about anything other than all that.” 

 

Brandon nods. “Yes, yes, baby stuff. I have read books on the subject.”

 

“You have?” Phillip blurts out, concerned. Brandon smirks and doesn’t respond.

 

“If she cries during the night just rock her until she drifts back to sleep, she’s actually a very easy little girl,” Kenneth adds. He kisses his fingertips and then reaches over to place his fingers on his daughter’s head. “For good luck.”

 

Janet is tearing up and staring at the floor to avoid eye contact. 

 

“Jan,” Brandon says in a rare, genuine tone. He places a hand on her shoulder so she is forced to look up at him. “Go have fun. We’ll take good care of her.”

 

“That better be a promise, chum,” she mumbles, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

 

“It is,” Phillip assures in a whisper, as if the baby could be roused at any moment. Janet refuses to tell them Sandra is the heaviest sleeper she’s ever known. It could do Brandon and Phillip a lot of good to shut up. 

 

“We’ll be back next Friday evening,” Kenneth says, and curls an arm around his wife’s shoulders to lead her away from the door. She follows reluctantly.

 

“Safe travels!” Brandon calls and Phillip bounces Sandra curiously in his arms as he shuts the door. 

 

Janet sighs in relief and with a sliver as worry as she allows herself to be lead by Kenneth out of the apartment complex and back into their cab to begin their vacation. 

 

* * *

 

“Do we feed it now?” Phillip stammers, moving around in circles, as if there would be some place to put her down. 

 

“No, I don’t think she looks hungry,” Brandon responds with narrow eyes. He takes out a cigarette, at a loss for words and Phillip kicks him in the knee.

 

“Ow!” 

 

“Janet said no smoking over the phone last week, remember?” Phillip reminds. Brandon  rolls his eyes dramatically, but shoves the cigarette case back in his suit pocket.

 

“The whole idea that cigarettes cause some kind of disease is a myth created by inferiors to make superiors look like fools,” Brandon states. Phillip pushes by him into the living room, pointedly ignoring him, and Brandon follows like a shadow.

 

Phillip sits down on the couch, and Sandra’s eyes blink open. 

 

“Oh, hello,” Phillip greets with a smile. Sandra makes a choked baby sound and shakes her fists excitedly. Phillip places her on his knee, hands secure around her pudgy middle.

 

“Oh joy, she doesn’t hate us,” Brandon mumbles, and plops down beside Phillip, fingers itching to take his cigarette case out, tapping mindlessly on his own chest.

 

“And why would she hate us, Brandon?”

 

“She might know we’re murderers,” Brandon suggests and ignores Phillip’s disgusted glare as he leans in close to Sandra to catch her attention. Phillip’s irritation with Brandon is completely forgotten when Brandon uses the stupidest, most childish, baby speech Phillip has ever heard. His voice goes high in pitch, and his vowels are drawn out as he adds, “Yes you  _ do _ know we killed David,  _ don’t _ you? Yes you  _ do! _ We stopped the ugly man from being your daddy, yes, we  _ did! _ ” Brandon makes some incoherent babbling sounds and Phillip bursts out laughing. 

 

Sandra giggles too and reaches a hand out to pinch Brandon’s nose.

 

Brandon snorts and leans back against the couch, tapping his foot on the floor. Phillip shakes his head when his fit of laughter dies down.

 

“Brandon, you astound me,” he says. 

 

“I’m aware.”

 

There is a few silent moments of peace and then Phillip bounces the leg Sandra is resting on and she bounces with it, giggling all the while. 

 

“Babies are easy,” Phillip muses and reaches up to squish her cheek. “She feels like pudding or something. Jello, maybe.”

 

Brandon raises a brow. “Your comparisons are very puzzling, and very concerning.”

 

“Feel,” Phillip lifts Sandra up and puts her on Brandon’s leg, startling him. His hands flutter down awkwardly to hold her there and make sure she doesn’t fall. He pokes her cheek with a finger, and after a moment he huffs and says, “Definitely jello.” 

 

* * *

 

After the bellhop arrived and delivered Sandra’s things, she cooed very loudly until Phillip handed her the stuffed elephant Janet had spoken of.

 

She cries when they place her in her crib and Brandon and Phillip exchange uncomfortable glances until Phillip picks her back up and her crying subsides. “Alright, no bedtime then,” Phillip says slowly, heading back into the living room. 

 

“Brandon, in your  _ various _ studies of babies, did any of the books tell you when is a normal bedtime for a one year old?” Phillip asks. 

 

Brandon coughs. “I don’t recall.”

 

“Maybe I can play her something.”

 

“While holding her?”

 

Phillip holds her out to Brandon who sighs and takes her carefully. “Of course, I have to be the one.” He pats her head awkwardly as Phillip settles down at the piano and pats the empty space beside him. 

 

“If you can flawlessly play Debussey’s Clair De Lune, then by all means take over,” Phillip says, and cracks his knuckles. Brandon sits beside him in defeat and rubs at Sandra’s back, her round head rested peacefully on his shoulder. Her eyes are still wide open, curious and innocent.

 

Phillip begins to play and Brandon’s heard the piece before many times, during breakfast or late at night after Phillip’s had one or two glasses of wine. Wine specifically makes Phillip more of a romantic, on the piano, and in the bedroom on occasion. For some reason, hearing it this close and having a child fall asleep in his arms listening to it is making him feel something deep in his core. He stares at Phillip adoringly, and Phillip focuses completely on the notes in front of him, playing by memory, closing his eyes during parts as if he can read the music on his eyelids. 

 

Brandon hesitates kissing his shoulder. He has a specific way he acts around Phillip when others are around for fear of discovery, but he remembers Sandra isn’t really going to retain anything. It feels extra special when Brandon pecks Phillip lightly on the shoulder and Phillip plays the wrong note, hands halting their proceedings.

 

“Brandon,” Phillip stutters and seems to come to the same revelation as him. Either way, Sandra is now asleep and wouldn’t have seen the kiss even if she  _ could _ retain such memories.

 

“Shall we put her to bed?” Brandon asks, and hates himself for how soft and delicate his voice sounds. He thinks maybe it’s a good thing society could never accept them as fathers. Children don’t do much for his mask of social superiority without sentiment. 

 

Phillip nods and they lay Sandra down gently in her crib. Phillip flicks the knitted stars dangling above her, and watches them mingle together. 

 

They leave her in the guest bedroom, right across from their own. If they hear her crying in the night they’ll easily be able to access her. When they settle down for the night, and Phillip climbs in bed next to Brandon, Brandon kisses him on his nose and down his neck. When he sucks a mark into Phillip’s skin, Phillip pushes at his chest.

 

“We’re not doing this with a baby in the house,” Phillip says, mind made up. Brandon falls back against the pillows with a frown.

 

“No smoking, no sex. What’s next?” He grumbles and scratches at his head in lieu of something else to do. Phillip settles down against him and rubs in circles with a thumb over Brandon’s chest. 

 

“It’ll be like prep school,” Phillip reminisces. Brandon shudders. When they’d spent weeks apart during winter, spring, and summer breaks, it was like a bomb had been scheduled to set off. Although their libidos had been much different back then. Phillip traces around a nipple with his finger teasingly, watching it harden, entranced. “It’s only for a week,” he adds.

 

“If we’re not having sex, you’re going to have to stop what you’re doing,” Brandon mumbles pathetically, turning his head away when a blush creeps up to his cheeks. Phillip shrugs and scoots closer, stopping his ministrations. He wraps one long arm around Brandon and rests his head against his shoulder, soon giving into the pull of sleep. Brandon fell victim to it soon after, hand in Phillip’s hair. 

* * *

 

 

It was 4 am when Sandra started sobbing. Phillip was jolted awake, always the lighter sleeper of the two, and Brandon’s eyes twitched as if his body were forcing him to stay in a deep sleep. 

 

Phillip rubs his eyes and squints at the clock above their bed. With a small groan, he hops off the bed and wobbles into the guest bedroom. He picks up Sandra, and the second he does, her cries begin to diminish.

 

“Needy aren’t you,” Phillip mutters tiredly. He rocks her in his arms, and just like Kenneth had said, Sandra’s eyes soon flutter shut again, and her breathing becomes slow and even. “I wish Brandon was as easy as you are,” he says and lays her back down gently in her crib.

 

He strolls back over to the doorway of his bedroom, seeing Brandon curled up on his side, having tugged all the blankets to his portion of the bed. Phillip sighs, and walks to the living room. He always had trouble going back to sleep after being forcibly woken up, so he thinks maybe a glass or two of scotch might help him.

 

Phillip’s delirious when he’s tired, so he doesn’t think about pouring it into one of the available glasses on their drink counter; he takes the bottle of scotch to the couch instead, and takes long swigs of it, not counting how many, staring at the reflection of the moonlight on the surface of his piano.

 

Slowly, he drifts into sleep, bottle in hand, mind buzzing.

 

* * *

 

Phillip wakes to his cheeks being pinched and lightly slapped, and the sounds of a crying child. When his eyes flutter open completely, Brandon is looming over him, Sandra in hand wailing away. 

 

“Oh god,” Phillip groans, a headache making itself known. “Brandon?”

 

“What on Earth are you doing?” Brandon asks sharply, though Phillip knows him well enough to understand his harshness is derived from concern and being confused or overwhelmed. Despite his state, he reaches out to take Sandra in his hands. He’s still the gentler of the two, bouncing her lightly against his chest to get her to calm down a little.

 

“She keeps s-screaming,” Brandon says, a thumb sliding over his lip nervously. Phillip stands, equilibrium not completely perfect, and cautiously makes his way to the kitchen.

 

“She’s hungry, Brandon. Like most babies are in the morning.” 

 

“Of course. I knew that,” Brandon replies and goggles at Phillip taking out a bottle of whole milk Janet had left with them in the fridge, and tipping it into Sandra’s mouth with ease. 

 

“Feel better, Sandra? Is Uncle Brandon a fool or what?” Phillip asks, as if Sandra will answer. Brandon scoffs, arms crossed, prepared to start a fight to defend his own honor if need be, but Phillip smiles lovingly at him. 

 

“Don’t be so stiff, Brandon.” When she’s done with the bottle, Phillip hands her back to Brandon and leans up on his tiptoes to kiss his cheek. Brandon’s hard expression softens, and he secures his grip on Sandra so she doesn’t fall. 

 

“Put her in the high chair,” Phillip says while he digs in the cabinet for baby food to give her. “I’m sorry about last night by the way, she woke me up and I had trouble getting back to sleep.”

 

“You worried me when I woke up alone, Phillip,” Brandon says with a cough. “It’s quite alright, though.” 

 

Phillip laughs silently, and tries his best to shut his mouth about Brandon being an emotional, sentimental, pushover. When Phillip brings a bowl of green baby food to the high chair, he snorts when he sees Sandra’s hand curled around Brandon’s pinky finger.

 

Brandon tugs weakly. “She won’t let go.” He looks genuinely confused, conquered even.

 

“Then deal with it,” Phillip replies, and airplanes a spoonful of food into Sandra’s mouth. A small portion dribbles down her chin. Phillip repeats the motion.

 

“You’re making a mess,” Brandon remarks grumpily, pinky still trapped.

 

“You’ve clearly never been around a baby,” Phillip retorts. He feeds Sandra another spoonful and she makes satisfied burping and giggling noises.

 

“Of course I have,” Brandon tries, but Phillip knows when he’s lying. 

 

Phillip wipes up Sandra’s mouth with a napkin when she’s done with her portion. They take her back to her crib and let her play with her elephant while they tend to work.

 

The rest of the week goes by in a blur for Phillip. The days are similar, he wakes up during the middle of the night, but this time finds his way back to the bed after he’s done settling down Sandra, allowing Brandon to draw him back into his lulling embrace. Sandra is incomprehensibly easy, just like her parents. Gentle, sweet, compliant, and just the right amount of stubborn. Phillip had never thought much of kids, never really wanted one, and he knows Brandon’s never been fond of the idea.

 

A kid of two murderers wouldn’t go across well at all, even if society were to allow people like him and Brandon to have a normal life. But, being caretakers every so often?  Uncles even, perhaps god parents of their good friends’ child was really quite remarkable to him. 

 

It almost made him feel normal again. 

 

Sandra mellowed Brandon out in ways Phillip could never dream of achieving, and Phillip felt calmer and steadier around her when he usually finds himself spiraling or unable to ground himself. He wouldn’t want the full-time responsibility of a child, and let’s face it, he and Brandon would be terrible fathers, but for now Phillip finds himself wholly content and even happy with life.

 

“If we hadn’t killed David, you’d be fatter. He’d probably name you something ridiculous as well like, Juniper, or Lavender, or Peony, the idiot. He thought he was  _ cultured _ , and  _ original _ _ – _ ” Brandon is more mumbling to himself than the baby, while he prepares her last meal before Janet and Kenneth come to pick her up. Phillip is leaning against the kitchen counter, biting into an apple. 

 

“You have to stop telling her we killed David,” Phillip says, casually taking another bite. Brandon glares, and then dumbs his voice down, cooing at Sandra like a six foot one monster-baby.

 

“You  _ hate _ David,  _ don’t _ you my little superior pumpkin, yes you _ do! _ ” Brandon tickles her neck and she makes hiccuping noises, giggling and squirming.

 

“David!” She cheers, fists up in the air, and Brandon nearly drops her. Phillip’s eyes widen into saucers. 

  
“She – ” Brandon is speechless. “No,” he says in a panic. “No, no David, don’t say that.”

 

Phillip runs a shaky head through his hair. “I thought they couldn’t speak at this age. What are we going to do, Brandon? What if she tells Janet and Kenneth, what if – ” 

 

Brandon shushes him, ideas and schemes rolling around in his mind, Phillip can see it behind his eyes. He knows the look; it’s all too familiar. “If she says anything and they ask, we say we made a joke about David’s death one evening and she overheard.”

 

“That’s not good enough,” Phillip hisses and Brandon grits his teeth, frustrated, but holding back shouts for Sandra’s sake. 

 

“It’ll have to do. With any luck she won’t say anything at all. Will you, Sandra? Protect your Uncles will you?” He reaches out a pinky and she curls her fingers around it. He smiles at Phillip. “See? That’s as good as a promise.”

 

Phillip buries his face in his hands, trying not to let the churning in his stomach affect him too deeply. 

 

* * *

 

When Janet and Kenneth arrive, they seem slightly tanner, and Janet beams upon seeing Sandra. “Mama!” Sandra cooes and Brandon and Phillip exchange glances.

 

“You didn’t tell us she could speak,” Phillip says, carefully handing her back to Janet who kisses her head over and over again.

 

“Oh, she’s only been saying mama. Why, has she said anything new?” Janet asks, looking hopeful. Phillip’s stomach is churning again, and he’s certain he must look pale, because Brandon smoothly steps in.

 

“Oh no, nothing else. She called for you quite a few times,” he lies. Janet grins and looks to Kenneth who seems exhausted and relieved.

 

“I’m so happy everything went well, how are you two faring? Not overwhelmed?” Janet asks, and bounces Sandra against her shoulder. 

 

“Oh, wonderful,” Phillip responds, strained. He can sense Brandon tensing next to him.

 

“Phillip’s a little sleep-deprived, but it was a pleasure. We’re free anytime you two need a break,” Brandon says and Kenneth claps him on the shoulder.

 

“You’re a real friend, Brandon,” He says, earnest. “You too, Phillip.”

 

“We’ll send the bellhop down with Sandra’s things,” Brandon informs, and nods towards the hallway elevator, trying to speed up their departure. 

 

Janet kisses their cheeks and she and Kenneth walk back towards the elevator with their child, nuzzling and and hugging her like she’s a treasure. 

 

When Brandon shuts the door, Phillip swallows, and grumbles, “I need a drink.” 

**Author's Note:**

> this domestic fuckshit derived from many conversations i've recently had with my bestie gus, shoutout to him i love him, and we just think brandon and phillip would be dope uncles and kinda dumb but still adorable and iconic. hope you like it, always enjoy feedback! (sidenote: i'm still working on the horny one, it has not been forgotten)


End file.
